


Fast Times on the Executor, or How Luke Skywalker Constantly Tests his Father's Limits

by treenahasthaal



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: AU, Family, Gay Tattooed Luke Skywalker, I have no idea what I'm doing, Luke somehow joined his father before Bespin, M/M, Not my usual genre, Tumblr Prompts, mild drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:07:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treenahasthaal/pseuds/treenahasthaal
Summary: This is a series of tumblr prompts that have, somehow, become connected into one Universe. These Asks were based on being given one sentence and the author then expands it into a ficlet. I was given a "gay Luke," ask and then I was asked about Luke having tattoos - along the way the two became one.This has been such a challenge, a fun one, that has really tested me as a writer as it is completely different to my usual choice of fic to write. Most of these are meant in fun...
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Anakin Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Comments: 24
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As stated these are a series of prompts. They are not in "in world," chronological order, but they are in the order in which they were written. The "ask," is in bold.

**It came as a surprise more than anything to Vader to find out that his son liked men.**

He’d felt a disturbance in the Force; a moment of sheer joy and a certain giddiness that had come from Luke. Curious, and more than a little intrigued at the sudden flash of light within his son, the Dark Lord had set off through the _Executor_ toward Luke’s apartments. 

As was his way he did not announce his arrival, nor wait to be invited in, he just swept through the doors as they slid aside for him. 

“You might have said you were coming, father,” Luke chided quietly as he drew on his black uniformed jacket. 

“I felt...” Vader started.

“Hey, Luke?” A gruff, male, voice called from the bedroom, getting a little louder as the speaker approached the open door, “Did you see what I did with my pants, I’ve...” a sudden intake of breath. “.... Lord Vader!” 

So now Vader stood quietly contemplating the scene before him; Luke tugging down his now fastened Jacket with wet hair and a growing smile, and an ensign dressed in his uniform sans his regulation pants, also with wet hair but with a terrified expression on his suddenly pale face. 

“Ensign,” Vader managed to rumble, getting over his surprise as his mind managed to put two and two together, and he guessed that’s what Luke and the ensign had just done a few moments before his arrival... and in the shower, too! 

Luke laughed, blue eyes flashing with humour. “Well, this is awkward.” 

Vader allowed a regulated breath to cycle before he spoke again. “I shall see you on the bridge, Lord Commander,” he told Luke, then he eyed the now trembling ensign for a few moments, before he turned and left the room.

_He is handsome, my son._

Luke grinned at his father’s approval through the Force, turning to his companion he observed, “You look like a Tooka caught in lights.”

The young man let out a breath! “I thought I was kriffing dead!” 

A head, with similarly wet hair in standardised military cut, popped around the bedroom door, and a tremulous voice asked. “Is he away?”

ooOOoo

**Vader had known that his son liked men for some time now, and he was perfectly fine with it, but he just wasn't expecting Luke to introduce him to his long term boyfriend, who just had to be that smuggler, of all people.**

The activity of the hanger bay faded into the background as Luke’s words sank home, creating a little bubble around the three of them.

They had captured a smuggling freighter, a notorious ship belonging to one “Captain,” Han Solo. This Imperial defector turned smuggler had pulled off some of the most infamous smuggling jobs, pirating offences, robberies and daring escapes that ever had come Vader’s notice. He had not been surprised to be personally instructed by the Emperor to end the smuggler’s career - if not his life.

He had drawn and ignited his lightsaber to shut the man’s cocky mouth when Luke had suddenly appeared, sprinting across the hanger and coming between Vader and Solo with his hands up and shouts of...

“No, father! Wait,” then he had stood between the two of them and stated breathlessly, “don’t kill him! He’s my boyfriend!”

At last Vader growled out. “Boyfriend?” 

Luke took a breath, licked his lips, watched his father carefully. “Yes.”

“You can find another,” Vader stated, taking a step forward, sword humming ominously.

“No... no...” Luke’s hands were up again, “please... I love him!” 

That stopped the Dark Lord. He knew what love was like. He knew how all rationality ceased when caught up in the maelstrom that was love. He knew Luke would do anything to protect the one he loved, even coming between Vader’s lightsaber and it’s intended target. 

He switched the sword off, hooked it to his belt and turned to Solo, pointing a gloved finger. “You will cease your criminal activities immediately,” he told the man, who he noted with some pleasure had paled satisfactorily when faced with a lightsaber blade. “You will be re-enlisted into Imperial forces and be assigned as my son’s attache.”

Yes, Vader thought, as he walked away a few minutes later after negotiating and agreeing to the man’s Wookiee co-pilot being released with the ship and dropping all criminal charges again them both, all rational thought ceased when you loved someone. 

ooOOoo

**Luke had been so enthralled in his activity that he almost didn't sense his father approaching the room, and he only barely managed to hastily put his underwear on and push the other young man into the fresher before Vader appeared in the doorway.**

Luke stood, back against the fresher door, trying to look as nonchalant as he possibly could as he plastered an innocent smile on his face. 

“Father, he greeted, calming his breathing. “If I knew you were com..”

_Wrong word!_

... uh, on your way, I would have dressed.”

Vader remaining silent and Luke forced himself away from the door and padded over to the mussed up bed and picked up the pants of his uniform; hoping that his father hadn’t noticed the two sets of clothes lying scattered about the bed; hoping his father would believe the cleaner droids hadn’t reached his apartments yet. 

Finally Vader rumbled, “We have identified an insurgent base on Abarim, you are expected to lead the attack.”

Luke absently picked up his uniform jacket and drew it on, still looking at his father. “You could have...” 

_Shit! Wrong Jacket!_

Vader’s helmet titled slightly.

“...commed me, father.” He finished lamely, arms hanging in the too big sleeves, hands lost, torso draped in sagging cloth. He swallowed nervously, fighting to keep his eyes from darting to the fresher door.

Another moment of silence, again broken by Vader. “We will arrive at Abarim within the hour. I expect you and Lieutenant Brokei to be on the bridge when we do.”

Words stuck in Luke’s throat, and at first he panicked thinking his father was giving him a warning choke, but he realised it was simply his own horror at being caught by his father in compromising situation. He cleared his throat, lifted his chin and forced out. “Out course, father.”

Vader started to turn away, but stopped and stated, “Ensure you are both wearing the correct uniforms,” before he stalked away.

Luke swallowed, smiled, grinned. “Brokei,” he called, “get out here! We’ve got time to finish what we started! 

ooOOoo

**Vader would have never thought he would be so shocked by something as trivial as this, and he wondered, briefly, how he hadn't noticed it before, but then again, he realised, he hadn't ever seen his son in anything but long sleeves, of course he wouldn't know the boy had a *whole arm* tattooed.**

Finally he found his voice. He pointed. “What is that?” 

Luke, a towel freshly wrapped around his waist before his father arrived at his rooms, paused while drying his hair and looked to his father. He saw the pointing finger and looked around. “What?” he asked perplexed. He went back to towelling his hair with a second towel. 

“That,” Vader said again, feeling anger snarl within,”on your arm.”

Luke frowned at the anger, and briefly fisted the towel in his hand before tossing it on his bed. He glanced at the arm that his father appeared to find so offending.

“It’s a tattoo,” he said, needlessly, wondering why his father was so upset. 

“I know what it is,” Vader stated through gritted teeth. “Why is it there?”

Luke shrugged, “I wanted to commemorate some of my achievements.” He held the arm out and pointed out some of the artwork. “This remembers Yavin IV,” he said, showing Vader a ball caught in a blazing explosion of white, yellow and reds with an X-Wing flying away from it,” he stopped, grimaced as he felt a chill drop in the room. He quickly moved on, “this is when I lead the squad against...”

“Those are Rebel victories,” Vader growled. 

“Before I joined you, father,” Luke told him, almost enjoying himself. 

“Have them removed.”

“No,” Luke said immediately, bristling. 

Vader took a stomp forward. “They are inappropriate for an Imperial officer and Sith Apprentice. 

Luke sighed, “I am not Sith, father.,” Luke reminded him. 

“Remove them, or I will have them removed.” 

Unhappy, Luke nodded. “Very well,” he said stiffly, but as Vader turned, a small playful smile crept over his lips. He couldn’t help himself. “What about the one on my ass?” he asked his father’s back.

Vader stopped, paused, then stormed from the room. 

Luke reached for his clothes that lay upon the bed and loosened the towel that hide his modesty. It dropped to the floor revealing a curling, fancy, script; two words neatly etched onto the top of each buttock. 

“Hello,” on one side and “there,” on the other.

ooOOoo

**Of course, Vader thought, somewhat resigned already, of course his infuriating boy, instead of doing as he was told for once and removing those tattoos from his arm, had gone ahead and gotten his other arm tattooed as well.**

Hooking his thumbs into his belt Vader stepped closer to the bacta tank where his son was floating in serene unconsciousness. Luke’s eyes were closed, the swelling and bruising on his face still a mix of reds and purple blacks. There was more bruising on his chest where the fighter’s crash webbing had caught him; holding him to the ejection seat as it had fired him at great speed into the dark of space. 

“There is some mild compression of his spine, My Lord, but a few days within the bacta will ease that for him. He may experience a few days of discomfort afterwards, but that shouldn’t last any more than a week. The bruising will...”

“Will the bacta heal the tattoos,” Vader suddenly asked. Now that he knew his son was not seriously injured, his mind turned to other matters that required to be resolved. 

“Uh,” the medic peered into the viscous liquid, squinting as he tried to make out the colourful art on Luke’s arms. “I haven’t heard of bacta having any effect on tattoos, My Lord.”

There was a muted sound from Vader, it sounded like a grunt of disappointment, then “you are dismissed.” 

The Medic gave a low bow, then turned away leaving the Dark Lord alone with his sleeping son. 

“Wait,” Vader said quietly, once the medic reached the door. “Does he have anything written on his...” a sound like a cough from the vocoder, “buttocks.”

Through the Force Vader sensed the medic’s humour, and was impressed when the man sounded serious when he spoke. 

“Yes, My Lord.”

“What does it say?”

The medic told him, then hurried... ran... away. 

Vader’s hands curled into fists.

_Damn Obi-Wan. Damn him to Sithfire._

ooOOoo

**There was no chance his father would notice how high Luke was, he thought as he swayed through the hallways, laughing, trying to reach his apartments unnoticed.**

The world did a slow twisting loop and Luke stopped, placed a hand against the cool wall and waited until the hallway was stable once more. He stepped forward, wincing at the sound of his boot heels rapping against the deck plates. 

“Shhhh....” he whispered, giggling, fingers still trailing along the wall as he made way through the Star Destroyer. He put a finger to his lips, “Shhhhhh.....” 

“Lord Commander?” 

Luke stopped, swayed, “Shit....” 

Gingerly, blinking blearily, Luke turned around and grinned widely in relief when he saw who was there. “Adimirali Pett!” He called happily! 

The Admiral grimaced at the mispronunciation, but stepped toward his Commander’s son. He peered at him. “Have you been drinking, my Lord.”

Indignant at the suggestion, Luke straightened his back and took a steadying step backward and bounced loosely off the wall. “Nope... I don driiiink...” 

Piett sighed, glancing around, relieved that the hallways during ships night were quiet. “Well, young sir, you are well and truly plastered, whatever you have taken.” 

“Swas, sumhing call cry...cry...,” he waved a hand at Piett as he mentally searched for a word that his addled brain just wasn’t providing. He stopped and stared wide eyed at the Admiral. He grinned again. “Dind you know... you’re shiny!” he lifted a hand above Piett’s head, fingers thrumming through the empty air. “Pretty!”

Piett rolled his eyes and took hold of the young man, he put Luke’s arm across his shoulder, threaded his own across Luke’s back. “Come on, lets get you home before your father finds you like this.”

There was a giggle beside him as they walked. “Yeah,” Luke breathed, “Just don tell ‘im I got ‘nother Tat... tattoo.”

ooOOoo

**His father was staring at him expectantly, arms crossed over his chest, and Luke gulped audibly. "I... uh... I didn't know you were going to be back this soon", Luke said, his voice strained.**

“That much is obvious,” Vader rumbled, folding his arms across his chest plate, waiting for Luke’s explanation. 

There was awkward silence, Luke chewed his lip, still looking like a loth-rat caught in speeder lights. 

Vader turned is gaze away from his son, to the officer sitting on the sofa, the man whose face was quickly turning crimson. Amusement rippled through the Dark Lord as he remained silent drawing out the length of time that the man had to hold his breath. He smiled beneath the mask, watching sweat bead on the dark haired Lieutenant's face.

“Father!” Luke eventually burst, “this wasn’t Han’s idea. It was mine.”

“Is that so?” Vader was enjoying himself and he felt the lie in his son’s voice. “Perhaps if Lieutenant Solo spat out the remains of the blunt he is trying to hold in his mouth, we could have a reasonable conversation about the dangers of Spice.”

Solo choked, coughed and cloud of smoke erupted from his nose and mouth. The damp remains of the cigar hit the apartment floor. 

ooOOoo

**Luke was stuck in the doorway of Vader's apartments, his words dead on his lips. He was staring, mouth open, almost unable to even comprehend what was going on. In all of the time he had been living with his father he had never seen him without his mask on, and to be honest he didn't really know what he expected his father to look like without the suit, but he certainly wasn't expecting him to look so... normal, least of all to look almost like an older version of himself.**

His father was pale and scarred, but the scars were fading, thinning, and not the thick gnarled gatherings of tissue that Luke had envisioned his father’s burns looked like. He was bald, as Luke had expected, a heavy deep scar scoring his skull, but it was his face that Luke was focused on; middle aged, blue-eyed, pale lips, and a chin cleft, like his own.

Even after agreeing to go with Vader, (although refusing to turn to the Dark Side) even after living with him all these months, and getting to know him, Luke had still not truly been able to get himself passed the notion that the suit, the black devil that stalked the Empire, _was_ Vader. He had, as yet, been unable to really imagine what was beneath the behemoth of the Sith Lord. 

And here he was... just a man. 

“Luke?” 

The voice was soft, a little raspy, but very human.

Luke hesitated, embarrassed that he had been caught staring. “I.. uh... .”

Those blue eyes, those intensely bright blue eyes, fixed on him and Luke found that he couldn’t meet them, that the acuteness was too great and he suddenly understood why some would glance away when he looked at them; he had his father’s eyes. 

There was a soft laugh, "... and your mother’s heart.”

Luke smiled, shrugged and finally stepped into the room and crossed the floor to where his father sat within his meditation chamber. “Then I did okay out of the gene pool,” he observed. 

Vader looked away, his gaze changing from the now, to far away and Luke could feel his father’s sadness, his self flagellation and regret. 

“She would forgive you,” Luke stated, firmly, catching and holding onto this moment when Vader was Anakin; his true father. 

It was the wrong thing to say. Bitterness and anger roiled in the Force and those blue eyes darkened and sickened with a flare of amber. “You did not know her, you do not know.” Vader’s voice was tight, reproachful.

Luke put his hands on the teeth of the meditation chamber, not allowing his father’s ire to chase him off. He smiled again; not taking his eyes, his blue eyes, away from his father’s. “I do know,” he told his sire, “I have her heart.”

And Vader glanced away, unable to look his son in the eye. 

ooOOoo

**Vader was honestly beginning to think his son was doing this just to annoy him, because now the infuriating boy was wearing a t-shirt in the most crowded area of the ship, and everyone could see those *things* on his arms.**

Vader’s lips pursed together under his mask in what Padme used to call his “pout.” He glared at Luke, the brief, fleeting memory of the boy’s mother only adding to his ire. 

Luke was casually dressed in black pants, and black short sleeved t-shirt that did little to hide the artwork that adorned his arms. His son was carrying a tray of food through the commissary, carefully slaloming around tables and chairs and gathering a few admiring glances from female and male officers alike. Luke acknowledge a few; precariously balancing his tray on one hand to blow a few kisses towards a few of the more vocal admirers. However, Vader knew ,and could see, that only one man held his son’s true affections. 

His demeanour darkened as he spotted Han Solo, newly recommissioned into the Navy to serve by his son’s side, languidly slouching on a chair with his feet on the table watching Luke approach with undisguised lust in his eyes. 

Luke clattered the tray onto the table by Solo’s feet and fell into his lover’s lap and his mouth was immediately captured in a long, slow, kiss. 

Vader took a step into the mess hall, intent on chastising both for public conduct infractions, but he stopped. Froze.

Luke had a new tattoo.

Vader peered at his son’s upper arm, a small smile curling his lip as he scanned as much detail as he could see from this distance. 

A tall, dark, caped figure stood upon a TIE defender clutching a red lightsaber in a dramatic pose against a night time sky. 

It was him! 

Luke had gotten a tattoo of his father! 

Taken aback, a little delighted, the Dark Lord abruptly turned around and strode away. 

Luke reluctantly broke off the kiss and, feeling a little breathless, he licked his lips and said. “Is he gone?”

Han grinned, squirming a little against Luke’s weight. “He’s gone.”

“Do you think he saw it?”

Han’s eyes glimmered. “Oh, he saw it,” he trailed a finger down Luke’s flushed cheek, “now, lets take this action somewhere a little less crowded.” 

ooOOoo

**Vader sighed deeply..... was his son gallivating around his flagship with his arms uncovered, with those *things* on display, just to irritate him?**

Again?

Luke knew how much he hated tattoos. He knew that his father didn’t approve of adorning one’s skin with trifling art and yet he continued to flaunt it in his face at every opportunity. 

As he often did in the early hours of the morning before his duty shift on the bridge, Luke was jogging around the corridors of the ship, and at that moment was approaching his father without a falter in his step. Vader walked on, squinting through his eye lenses at his son. What was Luke wearing on his legs? 

Well, his sons jogging pants were certainly colourful; reds, blues and blacks and was that... pink... at the top of his thighs? The pants were certainly not regulation and they looked a trifle tight; skin tight. 

Vader felt a dull anger begin to heat in his chest. Again, his son, a commander in the Imperial Navy, was ostentatiously disregarding acceptable military dress codes. This could continue no longer, he would stop him, send him back to his rooms to change and assign an appropriate punishment. 

Luke’s feet slapped in rhythm on the deck plates as he neared. He grinned at his father who had suddenly drawn up short and now stood in stunned silence, his rebuke left unspoken. 

“Hey, father!” Luke greeted, running passed, then he was gone around a nearby corner. 

Vader slowly turned and stared up the empty hallway.

Luke hadn’t been wearing jogging pants. He’d been wearing tight pink shorts. No colourful jogging pants either... just two legs covered in more tattoos. 

A young junior officer rounded the bend and almost collided with the Dark Lord.

“Oh, My Lord,” he stammered wide eyed.... and then slammed into the nearest wall. 

ooOOoo

**"What", Vader asked, pointing, and Luke flinched visibly, "is that?"**

Luke stared at the tip his father’s gloved finger that seemed to be pointing behind him. He turned around, and saw on the closed door of the his father’s chamber. “Uh,” he started, “the door?”

Oh, wrong thing to say; he could feel the heat Vader’s anger building through the Force. 

“That!” his father snapped, still pointing. “And don’t ask ‘what?’“ he warned, darkly, “you are no longer three years old. You know exactly what I am talking about.” 

Standing at ease, Luke’s hand came up from behind his back to finger the earring dangling from the lobe. 

Shit! 

He’s forgotten to take it off before his duty shift. So that was why Piett had ordered him to see his father. 

“It’s an...”

“I know what it is!” Vader growled, “why is it there?”

Luke reeled in his own ire, wishing his father would stop asking questions with obvious answers. “I forgot to take it out!” 

“Don’t take that tone with me, young one.”

“Tone?” Luke bristled, “I’m not the one with a tone!”

Ah, no, bad idea.

Vader’s hand curled into a fist before his face.

“I apologise, father,” he spoke quickly, swallowing thickly. His father had never struck him, but there was always a first time. “I misspoke.” 

Vader’s hand dropped, but his anger was still palpable. 

“Remove it,” he ordered, “now.”

Luke quickly did so, slipping the offending jewellery into his pant’s pocket. 

Vader nodded, approving his son’s obedience, this once. “Luke,” he began, his tone still firm, but with diminishing anger. “You are my son, and I am proud of your achievements...”

Luke remained silent knowing there was a ‘but” coming. 

“...but...”

Yep, there it was.

“...I have accepted your relationship with Captain Solo,” the name was said with loathing, so Luke doubted the truth of his father’s words, “I can even accept the decorations that you seem hell bent on adorning your body with,...” 

...again, not the entire truth.

“However, I will not have you disregard military dress code while serving aboard my ship.”

Luke nodded, “Yes, father. I will not wear the earring again.”

“I am not talking about the earring,” Vader stated, hotly. “I am talking about the pink shorts!”

ooOOoo

And that's it so far in this Universe.


	2. He's Right Behind Me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little add onto this universe in response to a Tumblr Ask/Prompt.
> 
> The Ask is in bold.

**Luke gulped as he sensed his father's unmistakeable Force presence suddenly materialise behind him.**

“He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” He needlessly asked Han, who had been lounging on the sofa in Luke’s quarters listening to his lover rant about his father as he paced the room. Han was now sitting bolt upright, eyes wide, and face pale. 

Han slowly nodded, again needlessly.

Luke swallowed, slowly turned around and found his father’s bulk filling his doorway. “Hey, uh... Hi, dad!”

Vader lifted his hand, pointed at Han. “Leave.”

Han glanced desperately around the lounge looking for his escape route and picked the only one not blocked by an angry Sith Lord. He dashed into the bedroom. 

As the bedroom door slashed shut, Luke took a step backward allowing Vader room to enter his quarters. 

“Uh,” he said again, unable to be think of something any more articulate. “What you heard, um... it wasn’t what you thought. I was only...”

“Do not call me ‘dad,’ in front of subordinates,” Vader rumbled, barely controlled anger underscoring his words.

“Han is hardly...” Luke started, and stopped as a gloved finger pointed firmly in his face. “Okay...” he breathed, running a hand through his hair, and amended, “Father.”

Vader walked on into the room. “Now, explain yourself.”

At first Luke was lost for words. He sucked air in through his teeth, glanced at the bedroom door hoping that Han would pop a head out to give some comfort and encouragement, but the door remained firmly closed. “Which part?” he eventually asked.

Vader turned on him, thumbs pushed into his belt and merely breathed in Luke’s direction.

“Look, da... Father, I was blowing off steam, I was upset, ranting... I didn’t mean to call you an ‘e chu ta cheeska sleemo, honestly,” he rushed on, “and Han doesn’t even know what it means!” he gestured to the closed door.

Vader’s helmet cocked, and Luke could sense humour beginning to bleed through. “I have been called worse,” he told Luke dismissively, “and your Captain Solo spent several years captaining a smuggler vessel, I think you will find him well versed in Huttese.” 

A muffled, “He’s right!” came from the direction of the bedroom.

And now Luke found himself utterly devoid of any idea of what it was he was to explain to his father. “Sooooo?!” He trailed out in confusion.

Vader sighed, the sound a bizarre “hurrrrr,” coming from the Sith Lord’s vocoder. He reached under his cloak and pulled out a bundle of pink cloth and threw it onto the couch in disgust. 

“My shorts!” Luke burst with grin, delighted. “I thought I’d lost them! Where’d you find them?”

“They were found in the ventilation system near the bridge,” Vader informed him, darkly. “Explain.”

Luke opened his mouth. 

And closed it.

ooOOoo

there may be more in future...


	3. Coincidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han points out a coincidence.
> 
> Another Tumblr ask/prompt.

**Vader entered his son's quarters to find the boy dressed in nothing but those horrifying pink shorts and sitting on the lap of one Captain Han Solo.**

Vader inwardly groaned as the couple leapt apart and settled on opposite sides of the sofa. They were hardly subtle. Although, he also smiled at the memories of the times that he and Padme had done likewise at the sudden arrival of Obi-Wan or Ahsoka. There was that one time when...

“Father!” Luke called, “Can you please respect the lock on the door just one time?” 

Vader pulled himself back from his memories. “You were not answering your comm.” He stated darkly, glaring at the pink shorts Luke wore and regretting his decision to give them back to his son.

“There was a reason,” Luke stated, with a side nod to Han, who sat looking everywhere but at the Sith Lord.

Vader felt heat on his cheeks for the first time in decades - he used his embarrassment to nurture his ire.

Luke grinned, sensing his father’s feelings. 

“The Emperor demands our presence at the palace,” Vader told him, tightly. “You are to be honoured with a promotion.” 

“Not another ceremony, Father,” Luke groaned and stood, he paced across the room, stopped by a chair, picked up a shirt and turned his back on his father to draw it on. “That last one was...”

“Wait!” Vader called, causing Luke to stop mid-move and mid-sentence and, with words that were becoming all too common for him, he asked, “What are those?” 

With his shirt hanging over one shoulder; Luke glanced over his other, which was exactly where his father was pointing.

Vader strode forward for a closer look at his son’s latest works of art. “That,” he stated incredulously as he poked at Luke’s shoulder, “is the Princess Leia Organa!”

“And my friend,” Luke shot back.

Vader raised a finger, pointing in Luke’s face. “She is your enemy,” he grated out.

“No, she is _your_ enemy, father.” It was difficult to keep the frustration from his voice. Were they going to dance this dance every time he added a tattoo?

“It is inappropriate for an Imperial Officer to have a Rebel adorning their skin,” he snatched at the shirt, uncovering Luke’s other shoulder and froze... 

The face of Padme looked gently up at him from Luke’s skin. 

“It’s my mother,” Luke said quietly.

“I am aware of who she is,” Vader told him, the vocoder straining to carry the whisper. 

There were footsteps as Han padded across the room. “I was just saying to Luke, how alike they look,” he offered, as both men turned to stare at him. “I mean,” his finger traced Luke’s skin, it lingered longer than it should, “same dark hair, same eyes... similar facial shape,” Solo laughed as Luke shivered, oblivious to Vader’s growing stillness, “Did you know, Luke and Leia even share the same birthday! Coincidence or what?!” 

ooOOoo


	4. Dinnae Fash, Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader felt both immediate anger and surprise the moment he saw Luke. His son was.... smoking?
> 
> I completely forgot about this one! I wasn't sure where it belonged. In with Alternates paths, of here. I decided here... 
> 
> It's also complete nonsense!

**Dinnae Fash, Father**

**Prompt:** **Vader felt both immediate anger and surprise the moment he saw Luke. His son was.... smoking?**

Luke was nonchalantly leaning his back against the wing of his TIE fighter watching the hangar activity. His upper body was clad in a black undershirt, likewise black flight-suit rolled down to his hips, sleeves tied around his waist, and jammed in his mouth was… 

…was that…

… Vader eyes’s narrowed as Luke took in a deep breath, held it, closed his eyes and slowly let dark smoke rise and cloud around his head…

… a canajuana joint?

His son took another long drag, tapped ash, blew out the smoke, stubbed out the remains of the joint on the TIE fighter wing and flicked it away. He pushed himself up, stumbled, balanced himself and started to saunter away… and suddenly froze in place.

Slowly, really slowly, Luke turned around and saw his father standing within the hangar door way a few metres away. His face drained of colour, his eyes… his saucer sized pupils… fixed on his father’s dark mask. Swaying unsteadily, he drew himself up into a semblance of attention, as Vader started toward him.

“Father,” he greeted, rolling the “r.” He blinked up at his parent in dismay.

“What do you think you were doing?” Vader hissed, a finger pointed in Luke’s face.

“Um, I wash jushed gonnae to go to the commishary. I’m shtarvin!” 

“You,” Vader said pointedly, still pointing, “are high.”

Luke screwed up his face, and Vader knew that his son was considering lying to him, then he brightened; grinned and lifted a hand. He held his fore finger half a centimetre above his thumb. “Jushed a wee bit. Dinnae fash, father.”

 _A wee bit?_ _Fash?_

Vader rolled his eyes, fighting his rising humour. He couldn’t help it. It seemed that Luke had been in the company of the latest division of pilots from the Academy on Skott; he even had the accent. He now knew where Luke had gotten the drug, he’d probably drank a few glasses of Skott Whiskey, too. 

There had been that time during the Clone Wars when he and Obi-Wan had found themselves hiding out on Skott in the company of some Highlanders. They had joined in with the locals; friendly people, welcoming, hard drinkers and even harder at partying; fast music from strange stringed instruments, snare drums and the weirdest wind pipes he had ever heard. He, Obi-Wan, Rex and the clones with them had drank and danced and suffered for it the following morning; much to the amusement of the Skotts. 

They’d even shared a joint or two… 

Sadness rolled over him, a poignancy that was as unwelcome as it was unexpected. He dismissed it with a rise of anger - anger at himself for remembering - and grabbed Luke’s upper arm. His son yelped, but did not fight against him as Vader led him from the hanger and through the ship. 

“Whur…” Luke stammered, tripping over his own feet, “ur ye takin me?”

Yep, Vader thought. Definitely the Skotts. “To Medical, you need fluids and rest.”

“An’ snashters…” Luke added, hopefully.

Vader audibly sighed, “You are never again to associate with the squadron from Skott.”

“How did ye ken?” was Luke’s plaintive cry… 

ooOOoo


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Han was on his hands and knees peering into one of the open maintenance pits in the Falcon’s passenger compartment. Luke paused, swallowed hard, his eyes trying not to openly admire the butt that was right before him. Han’s pants were stretched tight, had been slightly pulled down revealing the dimple in the pilot’s back just above his buttocks where his shirt had escaped from his waist band and Luke briefly wondered what that area of skin would feel like beneath his finger tips and what Han’s reaction to a caress would be...

**This takes place before Luke joins his father.**

** Borrowed Clothes **

**Prompt: Han was on his hands and knees peering into one of the open maintenance pits in the Falcon’s passenger compartment. Luke paused, swallowed hard, his eyes trying not to openly admire the butt that was right before him. Han’s pants were stretched tight, had been slightly pulled down revealing the dimple in the pilot’s back just above his buttocks where his shirt had escaped from his waist band and Luke briefly wondered what that area of skin would feel like beneath his finger tips and what Han’s reaction to a caress would be... **

“Hey, kid, hand me that wrench would ya?” 

Luke started, pulled himself from his thoughts and saw Han looking at him with a quirky grin on his face as though the Corellian had been able to read his thoughts. He felt heat rise to his face and he turned away from Han to both hide his blush and to look for the tool that Han was asking for. 

His foot kicked something that gave a metallic click on the deck and he bent down and picked up the wrench. Turning around, he held it up, hoping his blush was gone, to find Solo standing behind him. “This one?” he asked? Realising that Han had just got an eyeful of his own butt.

Solo was grinning happily. “That’ll do for now,” he said, taking the tool from Luke and Luke had a feeling that Han was thinking about what would do for later. “Nice duds,” he commented to Luke’s casual appearance; a yellow long sleeved sweater and blue pants. His lightsaber was firmly fixed to his hip.

Luke glanced down and cleared his throat, “Yeah, I borrowed from Wedge,” Luke told him, “I left everything on Tatooine, I don’t even own underwear.” 

It was supposed to have been a joke, but Han’s eyes dropped down. “Is that a fact?” There was humour in Solo’s voice, humour and tension and... 

“So,” Luke stepped to the side and strode to the edge of the pit, he peered in. “Whassup with the ship?”

Han stepped behind him, close enough that Luke could feel Han’s breath on the back of neck. His heart quickened and he licked his lips.

“Agitator needs a little lube,” Han whispered.

Luke swallowed, excitement pooling in the pit of his stomach. “Do you need any help with that?” He heard the huskiness of his voice, heard the need, the anticipation. 

A firm hand was placed on his shoulder. “Luke.”

Keeping his eyes cast down he allowed Han to slowly turn him around. There was a warm palm against his cheek and Han lowered his head until his mouth was at his ear and the Corellian whispered in his ear. 

Luke’s mouth dropped open in a gasp and he fell into Han’s arms, and was immediately and roughly lifted up. Mouths clashed, hands grabbed and Wedge’s shirt was lifted from his back baring his skin. Han’s hand splayed against his back, the hot rough skin welcome on smooth as it trailed down to caress in the dip of his lower back... 

... Han’s fingers lazily trailed over his body as they lay together, crammed into Han’s bunk. Loose blankets had been pulled up to cover tired, cooling bodies. Luke closed his eyes enjoying the tickle of the rough fingers across his collar bones. Han leaned in, his breath blowing against his shoulder, causing Luke’s flesh to pimple, he shivered; enjoying the attention. 

Han kissed the shoulder, ran little nips and kisses all the way to his elbow. “You know what I think?” The Corellian said at last.

“What?” Luke’s voice was rough, dry from the cries that Solo had wrung from him.

Han surveyed Luke’s naked body, ran his hand up Luke’s arm. “You’d look great with a tattoo.”

ooOOoo

**Author's Note:**

> If I get more Asks that fit this AU then I may add more chapters.


End file.
